


Visualisation Exercises

by Persiflager



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Affair Era Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden, M/M, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: Robert and Aaron make a sex tape.





	Visualisation Exercises

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the week Aaron spent at Home Farm.

Aaron’s standing in the kitchen at Home Farm, three feet away from Robert, with his coat still on and a bottle of beer in his hand, talking about work, village gossip, the Lambo Cain had in earlier. Robert watches him unwind in millimetres. There’s the sound of a lawnmower in the distance and the smell of coffee grounds in the sink from the pot Lawrence had made for himself and Chrissie before they left, not two hours ago.

Robert can feel himself relaxing too as he gets used to the idea that no-one’s going to walk in on them. It feels like he’s expanding, like he’s climbed out of a cramped box and is stretching his full self out.

Over breakfast yesterday, while Lawrence and Chrissie were discussing what to do about Lachlan, Robert had devoted a full twenty minutes to constructing a detailed fantasy about sucking Aaron off while he sat in one of the stupid upholstered bar stools. Robert had nodded and said ‘I think Chrissie has a point’ and ‘the important thing is that we present a united front’ while he thought about licking Aaron’s balls and the taste of his come and the broken, desperate way Aaron says his name when he’s about to come.

Now Aaron’s leaning on the back of one of those stools, waving a hand as he illustrates some argument he had with Adam, and Robert feels no rush to do anything. He’s content in this moment to just look at Aaron and listen to him talk and make him laugh.

Robert has always believed that contentment is a euphemism for a lack of ambition. People who are happy with what they have will get overtaken by people who aren’t - just look at Andy. Robert can’t remember the last time he wasn’t thinking about the next step, the next goal, the three, five, ten year plan.

Until now. Standing in the kitchen of his father-in-law’s house with Aaron, who’s rough and wild and barely thinks beyond tomorrow, and whose mere presence equals the magnitude of Robert’s desire. Caught in the liminal space between wanting and having, a space which Robert has always sought to minimise if not eliminate entirely, he’s happier than he can remember being in a very long time.

Robert wasn’t expecting this.

..

They do fuck in the end, obviously. Robert sucks Aaron off in the kitchen just like he’d planned, with Aaron’s fingers tight in his hair and Aaron’s thighs trembling beneath his hands, then he fucks Aaron over Lawrence’s desk, just on principle, so that he’ll be able to think of it every time Lawrence sits there. 

It’s the little things.

…

“Last spring roll?” says Robert, holding the carton out.

“Nah, you’re alright.” Aaron’s warm against Robert’s side, lying back on the sofa in his t-shirt and boxers, bare feet up on the coffee table, eyes half-closed, watching middle-aged men in saggy jeans talk shit about BMWs.

“Can’t say I didn’t offer,” says Robert, and he scoffs it.

Aaron gives a peaceful snort and picks up the remote control.

“Don’t say you’ve had enough of Clarkson already?”

“Fuck off.”

Robert grins. Then, on impulse, he slings an arm around Aaron’s shoulders.

Aaron stiffens.

“Oh come on, you had my cock up your arse a couple of hours ago. You’re going to draw the line at a bit of cuddling?” Deciding that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, Robert smacks a kiss against Aaron’s temple.

Aaron relaxes, but he’s still giving Robert a wary look as if he expects Robert to whip out a gimp mask from behind the sofa cushions. This probably isn’t the time to ask Aaron how he feels about bondage.

“Is it a reputation thing? Are you worried word will get out, spoil your hard man image?”

“You’re the one who cares what people think.” 

Robert lets that go. He squeezes Aaron a little tighter and snakes one hand down between them and up under Aaron’s t-shirt.

Aaron squirms away at the first touch of Robert’s fingertips against his waist.

“Can’t imagine it would do your rep much good,” says Robert, pursuing him mercilessly. “If people found out hard as nails Aaron Livesy is ticklish.” He’s got the reach; no matter how Aaron wriggles, he can’t escape Robert’s roving hands. They wrestle, laughing and swearing, falling off the sofa, until Aaron flips them with a grunt and Robert finds himself flat on his back on the carpet, remote control digging into his left shoulder blade, Aaron straddling him and holding him down by his wrists.

“I don’t mind, you know,” says Robert, grinding up against Aaron’s arse. “You can boss me about if you want.”

‘Don’t mind’ is an understatement, Robert’s dizzy with want. It’s lucky he’s already on the floor. He flexes his wrists, testing Aaron’s grip, and can feel himself getting hard with how strong Aaron is. 

“Who says I want anything?” Aaron leans down and kisses Robert slowly. His mouth is hot and tastes of beer and Chinese food.

“I know what you-”

The background murmur of Top Gear is suddenly replaced by heavy panting and moaning over a 1970s jazz soundtrack.

Aaron pulls back and sits up. 

Reluctantly, Robert opens his eyes and cranes his neck so he can see the TV screen, where a hairy man and big-breasted woman are writhing about naked in what looks like softcore porn. It’s pretty tame, to be honest; you can’t even see the bloke’s - whoops, there it is.

A disapproving silence hovers over him. 

“Oh come on,” says Robert. “That’s not my fault. I rolled on the remote.” He fishes the offending object out from under him and waggles it as evidence.

“Why do you even have that channel?” says Aaron, climbing off.

“No idea. Didn’t know we had it. Probably came with the package.” Robert switches the TV off and scrambles to his feet. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one,” says Aaron, standing there with his arms crossed and scowling like a textbook illustration of someone who has a problem. “That do it for you, does it?”

Aaron’s so transparent that it makes Robert want to laugh sometimes, but he’s aware that Aaron’s perfectly capable of getting dressed and going home if Robert says the wrong thing right now. “No,” he says, keeping eye contact, stepping a little closer. “Why would I want some poxy video when I’ve got you?”

“Shut up,” says Aaron, looking off to the side.

“I mean it.” Closer now. Hands on Aaron’s waist, lips against his ear. “You’re so hot. Better than any porn.” Robert slides his hands down under the waistband of Aaron’s shorts and over the curve of his bum, pulling him close. “Look what you do to me.”

“We should tidy up,” says Aaron, nodding at the empty takeaway cartons like he actually cares (which is bullshit, Robert’s seen the state of his bedroom).

“I’ve got better things to do,” says Robert, kissing him. “Come upstairs with me.” And Aaron does, and Robert does.

…

The conversation drifts through Robert’s head again later as they’re dozing off.

“You’d make a fortune, you know,” he says, yawning into Aaron’s hair. For a man who rolled his eyes at cuddling on the sofa he’s surprisingly tolerant of being spooned.

Aaron makes an interrogative noise.

“I mean, I’d pay to watch you,” says Robert. His brain helpfully supplies images of Aaron fucking and being fucked by other men, which are hot and at the same time disquieting.

The only reply is the faint whistling sound of Aaron breathing.

Robert erases the images from his mind, tightens his hold on Aaron, and falls asleep.

…

The first time Robert looked at gay porn he was 22, living in a shitty little flat in Leeds, and he’d just acquired his first laptop. The video had taken forever to load and he’d almost given up, but it had been worth it. The next night he’d gone out to a club and fucked a bloke in the toilets, the night after that he’d shagged his flatmate’s girlfriend to prove to himself that he wasn’t gay, and the night after _that_ he’d been busy finding somewhere new to live, so what with one thing and another it had been a memorable week.

…

Robert wakes up alone. His first thought is one of annoyance - Chrissie usually wakes him if he sleeps through his alarm, because she knows Lawrence will make a snide remark if Robert’s late for breakfast. Then he remembers that they’re not here. They’re not here and Aaron is.

Or was.

Robert throws his dressing gown on, flings the bedroom door open and narrowly avoids colliding with Aaron on the landing.

“Alright?” says Aaron, handing him one of the mugs in his hand. He’s put his clothes back on, which is disappointing, and had a shower, which is less so. He smells of Robert’s bergamot shower gel and it’s surprisingly hot. “Thought I’d make us a brew.”

“Cheers,” says Robert, and he follows Aaron back into the bedroom. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Should probably go home at some point before my mum does her nut.”

“Text her, tell her you’ve pulled.”

“Right, because that won’t make her nosy at all.” But Aaron lets himself be tugged close for a kiss, and eventually deigns to take his jeans off and climb back into bed.

Robert drops his dressing gown and does likewise and they sit companionably, drinking their tea while Aaron taps away at his phone. It’s nice and strong. Robert usually has coffee in the morning but this isn’t bad.

His phone pings with a text from Chrissie.

_Gorgeous morning here! Hope you’re not too bored all by yourself. Missing you already xxx_

Robert dashes off an appropriate response without the slightest pang of guilt before turning his attention back to Aaron.

It’s not that he doesn’t love Chrissie. He does, of course he does, he wouldn’t have married her otherwise. She’s strong and beautiful and fiery, and when he’s with her he feels like the sort of man he’s supposed to be. He can see a future with her. She makes him feel steady and secure and safe.

But when Chrissie’s not there, Robert doesn't think about her, not like he does with Aaron. He only loves her when he’s with her, and right now he’s not.

Aaron’s distracted so Robert’s free to look his fill. The sunshine flooding in through the thin curtains illuminates his face in lovely detail - the curve of his jaw, the sharp plane of his cheekbones, the soft dark curls of damp hair clinging to his forehead.

On an impulse, Robert snaps a couple of photos with his phone.

“What are you doing?

“Taking pictures of you.” Robert takes a few more. The light’s good, Aaron’s eyes are a bright, annoyed blue.

“Why?”

“Why do you think? So I can look at you when you’re not here.”

Aaron frowns at him, because Aaron doesn’t know how to take a compliment, but he doesn’t say stop so Robert keeps going. “Take your top off.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, which doesn’t surprise Robert, and then whips his t-shirt off, which does. Robert finds himself dry-mouthed and staring at the tensed muscles of Aaron’s naked arms and stomach and chest. The scattered silvery lines of his scars stand out even against Aaron’s pale skin, but they don’t spoil the sight; if anything, they highlight the planes and curves of Aaron’s body.

“Think you’re fit,” is what he finds himself saying, because he’s a tit.

“You’re the one staring,” says Aaron, crossing his arms behind his head, showing off. “You going to do something with that or what?”

With a start, Robert remembers the phone in his hand. “Well, seeing as you’ve asked so nicely.” He bends his gaze to the screen and takes a full body shot, a close-up of Aaron’s chest, another couple of his face. “Go on then,” Robert says without looking up. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The miniature Aaron on his phone screen chews his lower lip before shoving the duvet down. With a wriggle he gets his boxers down too and pulls his cock out. He’s mostly hard already - a good, thick handful - and as he starts stroking himself he keeps looking right at the camera, his chin tipped up as if to challenge Robert. With one arm still behind his head he looks like every gay boy’s wet dream.

Robert swallows. “Didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.” Takes a picture. And another.

“Must be in a good mood,” says Aaron. He runs his thumb over the head of his cock, brings it up to his mouth, and licks it before winking at Robert. 

“You’ve done this before.” Jealousy flashes through Robert like a forest fire. He springs at Aaron and kisses him, rough and fast, one hand knuckled down on the bed beside them for support and the other still clutching his phone.

“Might have done,” says Aaron, panting. “What of it?”

Robert exhales against his open mouth. “Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. What am I going to do with you?” He kisses Aaron again before Aaron can respond, then holds his phone up and snaps a selfie of the two of them. It’s off-centre and a little blurry.

He sets the phone to video and hands it to Aaron. “Hold this.”

“What- hang on, what are you doing?”

Robert works Aaron’s boxers all the way down and chucks them over his shoulder before settling himself in between Aaron’s legs.

“What do you think? I’m going to suck your cock, and I want you to film me doing it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” says Robert, and he bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Aaron’s inner thigh.

He keeps his head down for a few minutes - kisses his way up Aaron’s thighs, strokes Aaron’s sharp hip-bones, noses at his balls. When he finally gets his mouth on Aaron’s cock he looks up and is greeted with the sight of Aaron, open-mouthed and staring, phone clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles have gone white.

“Aren’t you going to tell me to make love to the camera?”

“Make love to me, you twat,” says Aaron, pushing Robert’s head back down.

“How do I look?”

“Yeah,” says Aaron, his eyes flicking back to the phone screen. “Really good.” Which is possibly the most sincere compliment Robert’s ever got from him.

Robert stops faffing around then and gets down to it. He puts Aaron’s legs over his shoulders for better access, licks the first two fingers on his right hand and gradually works them inside while he sucks Aaron’s cock, listening to the heavy breathing and swearing as Aaron falls apart above him. He’s so hard. His cock rubs against the sheet as he thinks about what he must look like, on his knees with a mouthful of cock and loving it. He wants to see Aaron’s face, see what he’s doing to him.

Robert pulls off. 

“Jesus Christ, Robert, don’t stop!”

“Turn it around,” he says, nodding at the phone. His fingers are still inside Aaron. “I want to see your face when you come.”

“Whatever,” says Aaron, but he does it. “Please-”

Robert dives back down and sucks Aaron until he comes with a cry. Robert swallows every drop before slowly, reluctantly, letting go and sitting back on his heels and surveying his handiwork.

Aaron lies there red-faced with one arm over his eyes. His chest is heaving and sheened lightly with sweat.

Robert retrieves his phone from Aaron’s clutches. It’s still recording, so he pans over Aaron’s naked body while stroking himself. “So, was it good for you?”

“It was alright. Are you still recording?”

“Up for being fucked?”

Aaron groans but rolls himself over. “Yeah, go on then.”

While Aaron lies there being unappreciative, Robert pauses the video, grabs the lube from the bedside table where they’d left it last night and rolls a condom on. He’s buzzing with energy, like he’s just had a double espresso and chased it down with a Red Bull. He feels like he could fuck Aaron for hours. He doesn’t ever want to leave this bed.

Aaron turns his head and watches as Robert carefully props his phone up against one of the mugs on the bedside table.

“Are you going to delete this after?”

“No, why?”

“Bit risky, innit?”

If it had been Aaron who’d suggested it, that’s exactly what Robert would have said - no way, it’s an unnecessary risk, they’ve got to be careful. Aaron being the voice of caution makes Robert perversely bold; it feels like a dare.

If Aaron ever figures out how much power he has, then Robert will be even more screwed than he already is.

“Not your problem,” says Robert as he moves down the bed. 

Aaron hums in agreement, his head on folded arms, eyes half-closed. If Robert doesn’t get a move on he’ll be asleep in a minute.

Robert takes that minute to arrange the scene how he wants it. He’s got visions in his head, of him fucking Aaron and of him watching himself fucking Aaron later, and this doubling of desire has sharpened the picture to HD-quality.

(Robert once read a book on the importance of using visualisation to succeed. He’s pretty sure that this isn’t what the author was talking about, but Robert’s always been a firm believer in transferable skills.)

He checks his phone to review the camera angle and uses the book Chrissie’s left on the bedside table to get the phone up higher. When he’s happy with that he chivvies Aaron into folding his legs up under himself, gets a condom on, lubes his fingers up, and re-starts the recording.

Aaron reacts to Robert’s fingers inside of him with a kind of whole-body sigh; the muscles of his back ripple and he rolls his hips, arousal moving through him like a wave.

“Yeah?” says Robert, twisting his fingers.

“Shut it,” says Aaron, but a third makes him groan and push his bum back into Robert’s hands.

“You could ask nicely, you know.”

“Get in or fuck off, Robert.”

Robert smacks Aaron’s arse on principle, because there’s dirty talk and then there’s just being a pain. All this gets him is a groan and another wriggle and his handprint glowing red on the pale, firm skin of Aaron’s buttock, and suddenly manners don’t seem quite so important. He grips Aaron’s hip with one hand and lines himself up with the other and pushes in in one long slow glide.

Their breaths are loud in the silence of the room. Robert strokes Aaron’s side. “Alright?”

Aaron shifts, tenses and relaxes, tilts his hips. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Robert sets a steady, rolling pace. There are no distractions - no worry about the time, no straw poking into his back, no-one else around; only the dark curls on the back of Aaron’s bowed head, the stubbled nape of Aaron’s neck, Aaron’s back stretched out naked before him, his hands tight on Aaron’s hips, and pleasure building in his pelvis that makes his toes curl. 

Aaron pushes himself up on his hands and starts moving with Robert, pushing back against him.

“Yeah,” says Robert, panting, and he thrusts harder. “You like that?”

“Fuck’s sake,” says Aaron, and he moves forward and off Robert’s cock so quickly that Robert pitches forward. Before his face hits the mattress Aaron catches him, drags him up the bed, flips him over, straddles him and sinks back down so fast that Robert nearly comes then and there.

“That’s better,” says Aaron, and he rides Robert at a brutally fast pace. Leaning back, one hand planted on Robert’s thigh for support and the other flying on his cock, he’s got his eyes locked on Robert’s and an expression on his face that in any other circumstance Robert would interpret as Aaron being pissed off with him. Maybe he is. Robert doesn’t care; Aaron can be in whatever mood he wants as long as he keeps riding Robert’s cock like that. 

“Aaron,” says Robert in warning, because his orgasm’s reached the point of inevitability now.

“Yeah yeah,” says Aaron, breathless, and his hand moves even faster and he comes, eyes closed, warm and wet on Robert’s chest.

“ _Aaron_ ,” says Robert, because he’s stopped moving.

“Yeah,” says Aaron, and he bends down and kisses Robert. Robert wraps his arms round Aaron and fucks up in jerky, unrhythmic thrusts, and when he finally comes it’s with Aaron’s tongue in his mouth and an intensity that shatters him.

 

…

Robert pauses the video. The screen glows bright in the dark of Vic’s spare room and he lies there, catching his breath, heartbeat thundering in his ears as he feels the echoes of his orgasm ebb away. That was the first time he’s come since getting shot; it’s nice to know everything still works.

It’s too cold to leave the covers off for long so Robert grabs a couple of tissues and cleans himself up before burrowing back under the duvet. 4.42am. Too early to get up for anyone but idiot farmers (not that Robert’s got anything to get up for - one of the few benefits of his three, five and ten year plans having come so spectacularly adrift is that he can have all the lie-ins he wants).

Speaking of idiot farmers, Andy’s probably up by now, heading out to milk cows or spread manure or whatever it is they do up at the farm before dawn. It was only a couple of weeks ago that Andy would have been waking up in this bed, under the same scratchy sheets (hopefully they’ve been washed since). Robert wonders if Andy ever lay awake thinking about him; if he regretted what he’d done, or if he thought about heading up to the hospital to finish the job. Probably best not to ask.

Robert’s sleep schedule was a mess when he first came home from the hospital, and sometimes he’d roll over and catch his stitches and get woken up by the pain, both of which mean he’s spent a lot of nights lying alone in the dark and contemplating all the ways he’s screwed up his life. Robert’s never had any patience for people who sit around whining about their mistakes, but his desperate need to know who shot him forced him to think about all the people he’s hurt - Katie, Andy, Chrissie, Lawrence, Lachlan, Paddy, Chas, Aaron, all marching through his mind like the world’s most depressing episode of ‘This Is Your Life’. Now he can put all that behind him and move on. He could leave the village if he wanted, and never think about any of them ever again.

Robert looks back at his phone. The video has paused mid-kiss, and he tries to summon the sense-memory of Aaron’s lips on his - the scratch of stubble, the warm breath, Aaron’s muscles beneath his hand. Aaron’s a good kisser, Robert remembers. They’d spend ages just kissing, even after they’d finished fucking. That should probably have been a clue.

According to DS Hart Aaron will be released today. Robert’s got nothing to do; he might swing by the pub, have a pint or two, read the paper. He hasn’t a clue what he’ll say to Aaron when he sees him - meet anyone nice in prison? I’ll forgive you for outing me if you forgive me for tying you to a radiator and shooting your sort-of-dad? let’s pick up where we left off, hot stuff? - but Robert knows Aaron; feelings as strong as theirs don’t just go away, and Aaron wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t still care. There’s a chance there, he thinks. And Robert’s never been put off by long odds when it comes to getting what he wants.

It’s absurd, but Robert feels really quite cheerful. He’s a single, unemployed insomniac who half of his neighbours want dead and the best thing in his life at the moment is a sex tape he made with his ex, but he’s got a plan (even if it is now measured in hours rather than years):

Three hours - get up and have breakfast. Endure Vic being chirpy and Adam glowering.  
Five hours - head into town, get a haircut, buy new bedlinen.  
Ten hours - lurk in the pub until Aaron shows up and try to talk to him. 

Simple, achievable goals. He lingers longest on the last, imagining all the things Aaron might say or do - everything from punching Robert in the face to blowing him in the gents. Robert knows which he’d prefer but honestly he’ll take what he can get. Whatever happens, it’s a starting point, and when he knows how Aaron feels then he’ll formulate a new plan, because he’s Robert Sugden - not dead, not straight, and not a quitter.

There’s a distant rumble from the high street as the early morning delivery van arrives at David’s. Robert falls asleep and dreams of fresh croissants for breakfast, the minimum thread-count for decent sheets, and Aaron’s face in the morning light, turning to look at Robert, mouth half-open as if he’s about to say something.


End file.
